


fever dream

by thanksroach (irnhero)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, relationships appear in order vignette-style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irnhero/pseuds/thanksroach
Summary: Vesemir comes to him first. Then Renfri. Then Yennefer. Then Jaskier.or: Geralt was injured on a contract and experiences hallucinations of the people he loves
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Vesemir, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Renfri, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	fever dream

**Author's Note:**

> i’m posting polished versions of some of my [febuwhump prompts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139258/chapters/71536530) on their own so they can have their time to shine; this was for the prompt, hallucinations

Vesemir comes to him first.

“What have I told you about your footwork, boy?” he says, leaning over to prod at the poorly-wrapped bite on Geralt’s leg. “Sloppy footwork will get you killed.”

“M’not dying,” Geralt murmurs stubbornly.

“This time.”

It’s true enough; the wound hurts like fuck and there would be an ugly scar from it, but Geralt would live. There were side effects, of course. Sweats, chills, mild fever, accelerated heart rate. And the hallucinations. 

Vesemir sits with him a while longer. How long, Geralt can’t say. His grasp of time is a bit… fuzzy. They don’t speak much. Chatting has never been either of their fortes. But it’s nice to have him there, to not be alone.

“You should rest,” says Vesemir, and Geralt wonders when it got so dark. 

He wants to ask if Vesemir will stay while he sleeps, but suddenly he’s too exhausted to lift his head, let alone form a sentence. His eyelids grow heavy. The last thing he sees before he lets them fall is Vesemir looking down at him with that gruff, stern sort of fondness only he can manage.

~

It’s full dark the next time Geralt opens his eyes. He hadn’t thought to start a fire before his strength left him and he regrets it now. The chills have started. He turns over on his side to search for his blanket and finds himself staring into a pair of big brown eyes. 

Renfri’s eyes. 

She’s laying there across from him on her side with her hand tucked up under her head the way princesses do in storybooks when they sleep. She looks much the same as she did the day he met her except… Peaceful. Untroubled.

Her skin is clean of any dirt or blood, her hair falls in perfect ringlets around her face, and her lips are set into something faintly reminiscent of a smile. There’s no sign of injury or pain. No fury burning behind her eyes. Just calm.

A wave of chills creep down Geralt’s spine and he shudders. His blanket is right between them. She doesn’t move or react at all when he reaches for it, just watches him pull it feebly around himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as if he might blow her away with words alone.

Renfri lifts her free arm from her side and reaches over to tug Geralt’s blanket up to his chin. “I know,” she says.

Geralt doesn’t know what to say then, so he keeps quiet. She doesn’t seem to mind. After she’s satisfied with his blanket, she rests her palm gently on his cheek. It’s not warm. Or cold. If he couldn’t see it in the corner of his eye, he wouldn’t know it was there at all.

They don’t speak again before he drifts off.

~

It’s Yennefer next.

Geralt wakes up on his back with his blanket discarded and every inch of him covered in sweat. It’s still dark, but the stars have shifted from the last time he saw them. At least, he thinks they have. His shirt is plastered to his skin and he tugs weakly at his waistband to free it, but something cold brushes his hands.

“Stop it. If you take it off now, you’ll be freezing later.” 

He blinks and she’s there, leaning over him and laying a hand on his forehead. Her hand is cold, but her eyes are warm.

“The fever’s set in,” she says.

Geralt thinks of the last time he saw Yennefer, how her face had crumpled and her eyes filled with unshed tears. There was none of that now, no anger or disappointment or sadness. She looks almost happy. Content, at least.

There’s so much he needs to say to her, so many explanations and apologies. But then she smiles down at him and they all die on his tongue. Anything that would take that smile away can wait.

Yennefer lifts her palm from his forehead and her cool fingers begin to trace a path over his skin, from his temple to his cheek and his jaw and chin, then back again. It’s soft and soothing and Geralt feels his eyes sliding shut again before long. He tries to fight it for a while, but he knows it’s no use.

“Sleep,” she tells him.

Her touch disappears the moment he closes his eyes.

~

Geralt rouses again to the glow of early morning. His sweat has dried and the fever has gone, chills too. He thinks the poison has run its course. Then he turns his head. Less than an arm’s length away sits Jaskier, back rested against a tree looking down at him. 

He’s wearing the same garish red ensemble as he had been the last time Geralt had seen him, but that is the only similarity to be had. There’s no tension in the line of his shoulders or the set of his jaw. He leans casually against the tree with his legs stretched out before him as lax and carefree as he’d ever been. 

Geralt’s head feels clearer now than it had since before the bite. A part of him wonders if this is really a vision at all. He looks up at Jaskier and sees nothing but warmth and ease in his blue eyes. That wondering part of him silences.

“Sing for me,” says Geralt, his voice rough from the dryness in his throat.

Jaskier smiles big and bright and reaches down to brush a stray strand of hair behind Geralt’s ear. For a moment, they just sit like that, watching each other. Jaskier’s touch almost feels warm.

It’s a lullaby that Jaskier sings for him. One Geralt hasn’t heard since before that was his name. It isn’t very long and when Jaskier reaches the end, he starts again, this time only humming. He goes back and forth between singing and humming and soon Geralt feels sleep tugging at him once more.

He doesn’t fight it this time. He lets Jaskier’s clear voice carry him off and that wondering part of him wonders if he might wake up to it too.

~

It’s late in the morning when Geralt finally, truly, wakes. There is no chill or sweat or fever. His heart is slow and steady again. He looks around his little clearing.

He is alone.

**Author's Note:**

> visit me on [tumblr](https://d-andilion.tumblr.com/)


End file.
